What once was broken
by sirageeks
Summary: GS; Grissom and Sara are happily engaged when destiny strikes. COMPLETE!
1. Chapter 1

What once was broken...

**Summary: **This is an answer to aphrodity challenge at YTDAW. 

1) Grissom and Sara are together...engaged  
2) Sara get kidnapped by a criminal and she goes missing and the CSIs never find her b/c  she was dropped off somewhere by the criminal and in the process was hit on the head or something and has amnesia. She doesn't remember who she is  
3) Sara finds out she's pregnant with someone's baby...Grissom's ?? but of course she doesn't remember who  
4) Years go by and no trace of Sara b/c Sara now has new identity and new life w/ her baby.  
5) She regains her memory from another traumatic event   
6) What does she do w/ her newly regained identity and memories? Does she go back?

**A/N: **This is supposed to be a WIP. The first chapter only covers the first and half of the second point. I would love if you give me some feedback!

Many thanks to Ghibli who did such a wonderful job as beta reader. Her suggestions and corrections are priceless! Should you find any more mistakes they are completely mine.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of the characters.

Chapter 1: Fragile, Grissom's POV 

I always thought that I stood on solid ground, that my life was based on solid principles.

As my life changed drastically I believed it could remain solid. 

I was wrong.

*****

Eleven years ago I believed I could go through life unscathed, if I only kept my distance. Distance to everything and everything that would require an emotional attachment from my side.

You think that it isn't possible to keep an emotional distance to the up and downs of life? You can! All you need is a barrier to hide behind. My protection was my job and my job was my life.

If someone would have asked me who, or more specifically, what I was, I would have answered him that I was a scientist. Up to that point I had dedicated my whole life to science.

A scientist is supposed to observe the phenomena that life confronts us with and find sufficient explanations for them. I've always loved to observe and I've always loved to hunt for explanations. 

Yes, that's what I was. A scientist, an observer. 

I didn't live my life, I observed the life of others. I was on the outside, without the wish to be within. Within the melting pot of emotions and confusion that is called society.

I thought I was content, that I could live like that for the rest of my life. I thought I could live a solid life, but then there was Sara.

  
The first meeting with her and my life turned upside down.

*******

I got to know Sara at a seminar I held at Harvard. 

She had been an extraordinary student and her frequent questions betrayed her intelligence as well as her wish to learn. I've always had the deepest respect for people who wanted to learn, who tried to extend their knowledge. 

It is the curiosity, the wish to learn that makes the difference between an animal and a human being, is it not?

_Sara Sidle_.

_Clever_.

_Young._

_Beautiful_.

_Intense._

Sara fascinated me from the first moment I laid my eyes on her. Yes, I admit it, I was attracted to her, but that was all.

After the seminar I went back to live my life, or should I say to live my work?

I didn't forget Sara though. We called each other from time to time and held a loose contact during the next ten years. 

Then there came a time when I needed her help, when I called her to take over an internal investigation. She came at once and after the investigation was completed she stayed. 

During her first year in Vegas, the mutual flirting was so easy. She had grown into an even more beautiful woman during the last decade and I liked being around her, liked to talk to her. I think I never laughed so much before. I felt free and reckless.

It was in her second year that I got scared for the first time. My protection against the world started to vanish because of Sara. There came a point when I had to admit to myself that I wanted more from her, that I desired her. But it mustn't be, for I was her boss and she was so much younger than me. 

In her third year things started to go wrong. I wasn't myself anymore. I changed as I slowly lost the ability to hear. Otosclerosis, a hereditary disease. My mother had been deaf since my childhood and now it seemed to be my turn to suffer the same fate. 

Otosclerosis was one of the reasons I told Sara to have a life, as I learned that she dated a paramedic. I didn't know how to deal with it myself, let alone with other people. As she seemed to accept my advice I was hurt, although I had no right to feel that way. 

I tried to keep her at a distance, tried to avoid her as our relationship deteriorated every day. She asked me out after the explosion in the lab and I turned her down flat. 

In her fourth year things began to change. Surgery was performed and my hearing was restored. For the first time since I was a teenager I tried to connect to the world. 

There was still that negative tension between Sara and me. I still didn't 'know what to do about this'. 

The light hit me when we had to work the case of a murdered nurse. She resembled Sara so much and the whole matter got under my skin. 

As I sat in the interrogation room with her murderer I told him that I knew the situation that he had been in, that I knew how it felt to be attracted to a beautiful young woman, that I understood the need to give in. I told him that I couldn't do it. It wasn't a much of a conversation, but rather a self reflection of myself. 

What I didn't know at that moment was that Sara had heard me. She didn't tell me though. Life went on and nothing happened for the next four months. 

It was a rainy day when we got into an argument at the parking lot. It started innocently with a discussion about some unimportant detail of a case and ended with both of us screaming at each other in the pouring rain. It was the first time that we expressed our emotions clearly without trying to hide our emotions feelings or our fears.

At the end she told me that she had heard me talking to Dr. Lurie. She told me that it would be my last chance to react to our mutual attraction or she would definitely leave. Or that's what I assume she wanted to say because I kissed her before she could finish her sentence. She tasted wonderfully and it felt so right that I wondered myself what took me so long to see the light.

To our complete surprise we managed to keep our relationship a secret for nearly a year and when it finally got out that we were engaged, the reactions were mainly positive. 

The next two years were wonderful. Yes, we had our fair share of problems but what would you expect when two headstrong people get together? 

But we were happy. I never had loved a woman like this before. She was everything to me, my light and my inspiration. She was the only one who could make me forget about the science.

I wasn't an observer anymore. From the moment I let Sara into my life I was a participant in the game of life and I enjoyed every moment of it; the good ones as well as the bad.

My life wasn't as solid as before but I had Sara to turn to in my times of need and it was ok.

*******

_Life is fragile. _

_Dreams are fragile_.

_I tried to fight against the tide of life but I lost._

_I am broken._

My world fell into pieces when we were together for two and a half years. 

It started with what seemed to be a fairly normal case. A man was found murdered in a warehouse. We thought we were in luck because we were able to save an intact fingerprint, but as I saw the result from AFIS I felt a shiver running down my spine. 

The print belonged to a serial killer. The print belonged to the Cop Hunter who received the 'nickname' because of his modus operandi. 

The Cop Hunter started every cycle with the murder of an innocent person but his target had never been the civilians that he killed. They were only used as bait. His real target were female persons working for the state. 

Each time that he killed the first random person, he would kidnap a female police officer or CSI who had worked the scene. She would be found dead exactly one week later, tortured and raped.

The profiler told us that his motive was his wish for revenge. The Cop Hunter wanted to get back at the state that betrayed him, get back at strong woman who reminded him at of his mother. 

He said that he was a very intelligent, young man in his thirties. A man who never had any luck in his life. A man who tried to prove to his mother that he wasn't a 'useless little brat' as she had so often called him. A man who wanted to join the army but was rejected. 

A man who couldn't stand women who had a power that he would never have.

As I held the results in my hands I grabbed for my cell phone at once. I called Sara and then Catherine. Sara didn't picked up but Catherine was safely at home.

Sara didn't pick up the next five times I called her. 

We all went out and searched for her. The whole team, the police and the FBI. She wasn't anywhere in the offices, she wasn't in her apartment, she wasn't with anyone of her few friends.

She was gone. Obviously taken by the Cop Hunter. There was no evidence left, Sara had disappeared without the slightest trace.

I can hardly remember the days that followed. My heart was filled with dread. We had only one week to find Sara, or we would find her dead. In every waking moment I asked myself what Sara would have to endure. Would she be raped or tortured too? My thoughts were spinning.

We fought against the clock and we lost.

A week later the first people came by and said that they were sorry. I could see compassion in their eyes but I didn't want to see. I wanted to shout at them to go away. I wanted to close my eyes and forget. I couldn't have lost Sara. It mustn't be.

The tension became thicker and heavier for everyone while we waited for Sara's corpse to be found soon.

A week, a month, a year passed and nothing happened. There was absolutely no sign of Sara. 

The Cop Hunter had continued his grizzly work in two other states but there was never a sign of what happened with Sara.

One year later Sara was pronounced dead. Sara's family arranged an official burial. That was the only time that I cried during the whole time. It was the first and only time that I cried since I was a child. 

********

You could say that my life changed again with Sara's burial, but in fact it was long before. It changed the moment Sara disappeared. 

It was then that I lost my balance. My life laid in shattered pieces around me and since then I haven't been able to put them together again.

********

Most of the people around me think that I found my peace. They think that I'm the old Grissom, the scientist, the observer. During the last two years I buried myself deeper into my work than ever before. There is no passion for what I do, but I function. I seem to function so well that I'm able to bluff them.

They think that I'm the man I had been before Sara. Only a few people seem to have a notion of how I really feel. I believe that Catherine, Warrick, Nick, Brass and Greg belong to them but I may be wrong.

In the end it doesn't matter. Nothing matters. Not my work, not the science or what is called life. I'm numb, I don't feel anymore.

I feel like walking through the dark. An endless black tunnel seems to lay ahead of me. 

Once there had been light on my way. 

Sara had been my light, but Sara is gone.

TBC 


	2. Chapter 2

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What once was broken 

****

Disclaimer: All right, I don't own anything at all. All characters belong to CBS.

****

A/N: This chapter covers point two and three of aphrodity's challenge. Again I want to thank Marlou for her help as beta reader! Should you find any more mistakes they are completely mine.

****

Chapter two: Fear 

*~*~*~*~*

Sara's POV 

There are people who think that the personality of a human being is defined by its sum of experiences. But what if there are no experiences that can define you, what if you cannot remember anything at all? 

If that is the case, who are you?

As I opened my eyes three weeks ago the first thing I noticed was the pain. Waves of agony were coursing through my whole body. 

It took me almost five minutes to realize that its center was my head. As I lifted my hand to carefully touch the sore spot I could feel that it was bandaged. I thought that it was safe to assume that I must suffer a pretty bad head injury.

Ok, the cause of my agony was clear but I started to ask myself where I was.

I laid in a white painted, sterile looking room, an empty bed besides mine. Somewhere near me a machine was beeping in a steady rhythm. The room smelled of disinfectant and medication.

I was in a hospital.

Thus I had determined where I was and why I was here.

That left only one more question. What had happened to me?

As I searched for an explanation in my memory I couldn't find one. I tried to think of other experiences in my recent past that might give me a clue but again I couldn't remember. The memories left were visions of white clad persons who tried to talk to me. 

I couldn't remember anything relevant at all. Suddenly I was afraid, questions were running and bouncing through my head.

Had I lost my memory?

My identity?

My past and therefore my life?

I could feel my heart beating faster in my chest and my body started to shake violently. 

'Dear god, please. No! That cannot be! What happened to my memory?'

The machine that monitored my heart rhythm made fast beeping sounds

Tears of fear built up in my eyes and soon I could feel them running down my cheeks. 

I heard a door open and footsteps approaching me quickly but I could only see moving shapes, for my sight was blinded by my tears. Those persons talked to me but I couldn't understand them in my panic. 

I started to lash about, wanted them to go away and as someone touched me, I started to scream. The sound that escaped my lips was alarming, even for myself. It wasn't the scream of a civilized human being but the shrill cry of a hunted animal, full of fear and despair. 

I hardly felt the sting of the needle but soon after fatigue was covering me like a blanket and I fell asleep.

********

Two days later I only knew two things for sure, where I was found and why I couldn't remember a single thing.

After my first eruption the day I woke up I had remained quiet. I had hardly spoken a word. Why should I bother to speak at all? It wasn't as if I had something to tell. I felt numb and was grateful about it, for I didn't want to feel anything. I heard them talk to me, I let them examine me but I didn't care.

They told me that I had been found by some tourists alongside a highway, in the midst of Arizona's desert. My clothes were torn and my body was covered with bruises. I had a deep, gaping wound on my head and as they talked to me I didn't react. They thought I was dead but as one of them finally found the courage to touch me they felt that my body was warm. 

They called the police who arrived as quickly as possible, together with the ambulance. I was comatose and nearly dehydrated as the doctor noticed soon. They brought me into a hospital in Phoenix where I remained in a coma for about two weeks.

Also I was still very exhausted and yet I had to undergo uncountable examinations. Obviously I couldn't tell them what had happened to me, so they tried at least to find out what happened to my body.

The result was a knockdown blow. I suffered from retrograde amnesia. 

The doctor who told me about my condition was very friendly and understandable. He tried to soothe me, he did his best to reach me. I let him talk. I wasn't interested in what he had to tell me.

"You suffer from a condition that is known as retrograde amnesia. It is a form of amnesia resulting from brain injury in which the individual loses memories for the time period just prior to the injury. You know, this time period may stretch from a few minutes to several years, like in your case and typically it is worst for events which occurred just before the injury. No one can say if and when you get your memory back. Maybe soon, maybe never."

He told me a lot more that afternoon but I didn't care to listen.

Yes, I was depressed but why shouldn't I be?

Can you imagine how it is not to know your name?

Can you imagine not to know how old you are?

Can you imagine not to know what you look like?

I didn't know who I was and so far no one was able to give me an identity. No one seemed to miss me and although they ran my fingerprints through the databases they hadn't gotten any hits yet. 

It was almost funny to see the struggle of the various nurses and doctors who didn't know how to address me. After the first day I told them to call me Jane. Jane like Jane Doe. After all I was a Jane Doe, wasn't I? 

Yeah, the brain is definitely a funny thing. I could remember that missing persons or anonymous corpses were called John or Jane Doe but I couldn't remember my own damned name.

So, now I'm known as Jane and I'm probably a woman in my mid thirties. What may have happened in those thirty five years I couldn't remember? 

However, my appearance bore no traces of what could have been. Can you imagine how much inner strength you need to look in a mirror not knowing what you will see? 

I took me a whole day to find this strength and I found it quite interesting to look at my own body, at my own face as though I'm looking at a stranger. 

I had the sudden urge to beat myself, to castigate this body who won't tell me who it was. It would be a relief to feel the pain, to feel that I was still alive.

I didn't do it though, for I knew that I should better be nice to this unknown person staring back at me. It was the only asset I had at the moment, the only trace left of my past and the only key to my future. 

As I examined my appearance intently I saw that I was a tall woman, around 5.8 feet. I was slender, although not very muscular. I guessed that I didn't do any regular sports. I had curly brown hair and deep brown eyes.

I wasn't a breath taking beauty but in my opinion I looked good. I was relieved that at least I liked what I saw and I tried a little smile. I was surprised to see a wide gap between my front teeth. It gave me an unexpected young and vulnerable touch.

I had fine wrinkles on my forehead. Did that mean I was a keen thinker or were they an indication for a person who had a lot to worry about in its past? Were they a sign of both?

Most of my time though I stayed in bed and tried not to think what the future held in store for me.

As I was in the hospital for five days, one of the doctors wanted to speak with me and I accompanied the nurse to his office where he already waited for me. He looked worried, a hint of pity evident in his eyes. What could this nasty bastard want from me? 

I knew I shouldn't think something like that but hey, unlike me, he had an identity, a life and enough inner peace to be able to pity another human being. 

As I sat down opposite of him he started to speak.

"Jane, we got the result of your blood test today and I do have to tell you something." 

I felt a knot tighten in my stomach.

"Jane, you are pregnant."

I started to cry.

********

I want to scream but no sound escapes my lips.

__

I want to hide but there is nowhere to go.

__

I want to cry but my eyes are dry.

__

I am afraid.

It is hard to describe the last two weeks. So much has happened and there were so many decisions to be made. 

My feelings changed every few minutes and I searched for answers I couldn't find.

As they told me that I was pregnant I was shocked. I was confused. Should I be happy or sad? 

How should I deal with the fact that I was pregnant with a child of whom I didn't know the father? 

I was in an early stage of pregnancy and that was an indication that 'it' happened only a short time before I was found. That left three possibilities and I liked none of them.

I could have received the child from someone I was engaged with and whom I most probably loved. Somewhere inside myself I was sure that there had been a man who loved me. I had no evidence for this feeling besides a small, silver ring at my left ring finger. He was plain and beautiful and whenever I looked at him I had the feeling I had to remember something, but this memory, hiding just under the surface won't come out. 

If I was right and I had been engaged, what had happened to this man? Didn't he care for me at all? Did he try to find me and was desperate about my disappearance? Did something happen to him too? None of them were happy thoughts. 

The second option wasn't any better. I could have been a single, someone who received the child from a one night stand. I hated that thought. Was I really that kind of woman who slept with various men only for the sake of some fast dying desire?

The last and most gruesome scenario was that I was abducted, raped and left in the desert by some criminal. There was no medical evidence that supported the theory but that was no wonder. No one knew when it was that I was dumped alongside the highway. Days could have passed till they found me.

Only the last scenario fitted with my head injury, so it was most probably the one that was true. 

The grape of hate and fear was growing inside myself.

What was I supposed to do? 

Should I have an abortion or should I carry the child? Would I have the strength to love a child that wasn't desired?

Another thought that scared me was the question what would happen with the child if I decided to raise it. 

Was there any chance that the child would grow into a friendly and responsible adult or was it damned to end like its unknown father? Is there a form of evil that is carried by the genes? 

  
Would I be damned to raise a criminal? 

Even if I could be sure that love, education and the influence of society were the ingredients that form the character of a human being, there were other problems I couldn't solve right now. 

  
What could I offer a child. I had no home, no job, no qualifications. To raise a child it one needs money, how should I earn it?

The decision wasn't an easy one.

There were many nights that I cried myself to sleep. That was somewhat ironic because I was fairly sure that I had never been the kind of woman to cry easily. 

There were many nights that I prayed for inspiration. 

There were many nights that I found no sleep at all.

  
What was I supposed to do?

__

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

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What once was broken

****

**Disclaimer:** All right, I don't own anything at all. All characters belong to CBS.

****

**A/N: **This chapter covers point four and five of aphrodity's challenge. Thousands of thank you's go to Marlou for her help as beta reader! Should you find any more mistakes they are completely mine.

****

Chapter three: The Resurrection of Sara Sidle

Sara's POV

3 years later

__

Crossroads

Matters of choice

__

Only one path to go

Make your decision

Once again, I found myself in a hospital and again I stood at a crossroad. This time it wasn't that I remembered nothing. This time I remembered too much.

Two weeks prior I had a car accident and I thank God every day that I was alone in that car, that my son was safe in kindergarten.

Before going to work, I decided to do some grocery shopping; just the normal, every day things. Milk, vegetables, good coffee. Having placed everything in the trunk, I turned my car onto the street and I was sure that nothing could happen because the stoplight showed red for the oncoming traffic. I knew that but apparently the driver who ignored the streetlight didn't..

He drove far too fast and passed several cars in his hurry. I didn't have the time to react, and the last thing I heard were squealing and screeching brakes.

He must have hit the driver's door, or at least that's was what they told me. They told me that I should thank whatever God is around to be still alive. Besides a broken arm, some bruises and a head wound, I remained unharmed.

I was happy. Happy that I didn't make my son into an orphan. Happy that I got another chance.

But with the process of healing came another side affect. Memories of another life slowly dripped into my consciousness. One by one they fought for attention and dominance of this body which held only place for one personality.

Memories of a childhood spent with hippie parents. Memories of high school and colleges where learning was the most important thing. Memories of work in San Francisco and Las Vegas.

Memories of ups and downs. Memories of a great love.

Sara Sidle reintroduced herself after a three-year sleep.

But what was with Jane Summers?

It had been hard to create a new life. There were numerous decisions to be made and all I had as help were my senses. Sometimes I thought that I couldn't go on but some small spot inside me must have been made out of steel; whenever I was down, I somehow got up again.

The first decision was to choose a name. I decided to stick with Jane, in some way it humored me. Briefly I wondered how many women with amnesia chose Jane as name.

Summers should be my surname. I wanted something with a positive touch. Something that should be an omen for a hopefully positive future. I always loved the summer the most of all seasons, or that's what I thought, for I couldn't remember past summers. I decided it would be the perfect name.

When it came to the decision where I wanted to stay I decided to stay in Phoenix. When you didn't know anyone or anything in any place you could just as well stay where you are, couldn't you?

The next step was very difficult for me. I had to beg. I had nothing so I had to ask the state for help. I hated to be a beggar, in any form or shape, but what could I do?

I was lucky and I met a very engaged social worker while I tried to find my way through the complicated welfare system. Pamela Harker, a strong and wonderful person who soon became my best friend.

She helped me to find a small apartment, helped me to apply for all the papers that a human being with an identity needs.

She was also the one who managed to find me a job as a salesperson in a supermarket. That wasn't what I liked to do but I had no choice.

I did an intelligence test in the hospital and it showed that I had a fairly high IQ, but a high IQ doesn't help when you need money to live. I had no college diploma and couldn't show a proper résumé so a minimum-wage job was the only possibility.

Ok, Pamela told me that I could go to school again but I needed the money. I needed the money for the child I was expecting.

Yes, I decided to have the child because it was an innocent life and I couldn't destroy it even though I feared the future. I promised myself to love it like it deserved, and I would keep my promise.

I often wished that I would get my memory back. I was often depressed and everything seemed to be too arduous. My whole life seemed to be a single black hole but I refused to take any medication for fear of hurting my unborn baby.

Again it was Pamela who was the one that gave me strength again; she introduced me to a self-help group of amnesia victims. I saw that I wasn't alone and slowly I learned to cope with the situation.

I took Pamela's advice and bought myself a camera. She said that I should take photos of everything that seemed important to me. I shouldn't only create myself a new life, and future, but also a new past.

All of my photos are precious to me. I didn't take many of them but when I made one, it was of something that somehow made me feel connected to my past. Most often it was Pamela anyway who took the photos. She thought that I should see myself on them, see how I had developed throughout the months.

The most important of my photographs were in a special folder and I loved to look at them in one of the rare, silent hours I had for myself.

The first one of my collection showed my newly furnished apartment. Nothing special, for I couldn't afford it, but mine. I felt proud to have my own private space again.

The second one showed me in the eight month of my pregnancy. I didn't notice Pamela making this photo. I was sitting on my couch, both hands resting on my swollen belly. I looked down on it and I was speaking to the baby, telling it some nonsense. I was so excited and afraid. What would it look like, would it be healthy, and would I be a good mother?

The next one was made in the hospital, two days after the birth. I held my little son in my arms and this picture shows him yawing, his cute little mouth wide open, his little arms outstretched and his fists clenched. How I loved this child from the moment I laid my eyes on him.

Twelve more photos of Connor in various stages of growing-up found their way into my collection. Connor, for that's what I named my little boy. It's a strong name and I was sure he would grow into a strong man.

The last one was taken six weeks before my accident. Pamela and I took Connor to a park where we would meet a friend. My son enjoyed to play in the warm sunshine and as he made a break to eat some home-made cake, I took him in my arms and Pamela laid an arm around us both. That was when Michael made the picture.

But Michael is another story.

If my life sounds like fun I can assure you that the last three years weren't like that at all.

Do you have an idea how hard it is to raise a child with two full-time jobs? I couldn't earn enough with one so I needed two.

While Connor was in day-care, I went to the supermarket where I worked as a shop assistant.

Then in the afternoon I took care of my son, spent some time with him, cooked for him and played with him. Everything that a good mother is supposed to do and I loved every minute with him.

Half an hour before his regular bedtime I drove him to Pamela. Yes, Pamela again. She was always such an angel. He slept in her apartment while I drove to the hospital. The same hospital were I was treated after they had found me. I worked as a cleaner there. Hard work but decent money.

When I came home at two o'clock at night. I regularly slept for four hours. Thank god I didn't need much sleep. Punctual at half past six I stood outside of Pamela's door. We would take a little breakfast together and then I drove Connor to day-care.

That was my life for two and a half years. Then I met Michael. Michael o'Brian, a surgeon at the hospital I worked. I didn't know that he saw in me. Although I tried to educate myself by reading scientific books in my scarce free time I was nothing more than a cleaner. I wasn't the brightest woman, nor the most beautiful, so what did he see in me?

It started completely innocently. We met in the break room when I had a short break to drink a coffee. We talked a little about nothing in particular. I met him again the next night. At first our meetings were purely by chance, but after a month I got the feeling that he waited for me to come.

Another month passed and he asked me out and we had dinner together. During the last four months, we'd meet from time to time, and I liked his company. It was good to feel like a woman again. To feel desired and worthy of someone's attention.

He was a tall, good looking man, with warm brown eyes and dark hair. He was funny, very sociable in contrast to me. I wasn't the kind of person to enjoy social contacts very much. He was sensible and seemed to care about me. He seemed to care about Connor as well and Connor liked him too.

I knew that he wanted more and there were two times that he wanted to go home with me. I knew he wanted to sleep with me but I couldn't. There was something inside me that stopped me. Again he proved that he was a wonderful man. He was very understanding and maybe I would have let it happen sometime soon.

After all, there's no need to worry about that now.

That life, those decisions belonged to Jane Summers.

What was with Sara Sidle?

Sara Sidle; the intelligent and committed forensic investigator in the country's number two team.

Every new memory awakened strong emotions in me and sometimes I didn't know if I was happy to have them back at all.

The first memories were those of my childhood, a constant fight against parents who looked at life with a nonchalance which seemed strange to me.

Memories of an older brother, who didn't seem to care about anything at all. Someone without a high school qualification. Someone without a constant job who traveled from city to city. I hated him, I despised him but so often I missed him terribly. He was the one who showed me how to swim and disassemble a car. He could be the best if only he wanted to.

Mental pictures from my time at college where I finally felt at home. To absorb knowledge without people thinking you are strange is wonderful I can assure you.

The glory days in San Francisco, the first job. The hunt for criminals, the need to combine my common sense with rigid sciences, to do something good in this life.

The last years in Vegas. A constant challenge for my mind. My struggle to gain acceptance, to find a life.

Those memories made me melancholic but I could bear them.

There were other memories though, reminiscences of love, of happiness.

Pictures of Gil Grissom. The man who meant the world for me.

How I was in awe of his knowledge when I met him the first time. Ok, it wasn't only his intelligence. He was damn good-looking too.

How I waited for those precious calls that made me feel alive. Truly intelligent conversations were so rare and there was the extra benefit of his sexy voice. I always loved his voice.

How my heart beat faster when he called me for help.

How I could feel a smile form on my lips whenever he was around me.

How he hurt me when he kept me at a distance after the first two years.

How I felt thousands of butterflies flutter in my stomach when he kissed me for the first time.

How wonderful those two and a half years together with him were.

How happy I was when I found out that I was pregnant.

How I planned various scenarios of how to tell him the good news.

Then the Cop Hunter. From one moment being gloriously happy, to the next moment being kidnapped by a criminal. These were memories I didn't allow myself to remember at the time. I knew that I would have to cope with them sometime soon but I wasn't ready then, nor right now.

I often asked myself what Sara would think of Jane. Would she despise her or would she like her. I've done my best, so much is certain. Didn't Jane deserve respect for being a hard working woman, for being a caring mother?

Who would ever have thought that Sara Sidle could be a good mother.

The whole incident had one positive side effect. Now I knew for sure who the father of my son was and it gave me a warm feeling of peace.

If I wouldn't have had the car accident, my memories would never have come back, and I wouldn't have known it for a long time to come.

Connor has my dark hair but piercing blue eyes. The most beautiful eyes I've ever seen, beside of his father's.

My little sunshine was always so intelligent, much more than other children of his age. Soon after he learned to walk he loved it to spend his time in the park where he didn't want to sit on the swings or to play in the sand.

No, he loved to crawl on the ground watching the various six and eight legged creatures there. He had an unnatural patience for a child his age and his little face lit like sunshine when he found some new specimen.

Does it surprise you that his first word after Mom was bug?

This child was truly Grissom's and soon I would have to talk to him.

My heart beat faster with the thought of talking to him again, seeing him again.

But was it possible to pick up the thread of former ties?

"Jane... I mean Sara. Sorry my dear, I still have to get used to this name." Pamela looked at me apologetically.

Since I laid in the hospital she had visited me every day. Today was my last day here for tomorrow I would be released.

"It's ok Pam. I sometimes don't even know who I am anymore."

I looked up at her and her deep brown eyes looked back with a look of friendship and concern. Sometimes I didn't know why I deserved the friendship of this wonderful woman.

She wasn't really a 'beauty' but an inner fire burned in her.

She'd always had a hard life, always had to fight. As the fifth daughter of a Senegalese mother and an Irish father, she had two problems to face. First of all there was no one who had really time to care for her, so she basically raised herself alone.

Secondly, her siblings and her had to endure a lot of spiteful remarks because of their skin that was the color of creamed coffee. That was something that mustn't be in a quarter of Boston where usually only Catholic Irish emigrants lived.

But Pam was strong and she made her way. She was intelligent and got a full scholarship for college. She was forty years old now and worked as a social worker for around the last fifteen years. She had never lost her burning passion for justice and she was the most admirable person I knew.

Pam's voice brought me back to reality.

"Darling, have you decided what you'll do? What you'll do with Michael, with Connor, with Grissom?" her voice was quiet, comforting.

I had told her about Grissom, about all of my memories, and Pam told me the same thing that I'd known for days now. Grissom deserved to know that I was alive and that he had a son.

"Yes I have. Of course I'll call him. My heart craves to hear his voice, you know. It's only that I constantly ask myself if he forgot about me, if he is engaged or married to another woman, if he doesn't want me back in his life. What if I have to realize, now that I found him, that it couldn't work between us again."

I had spoken swiftly, sure that my fears were evident in my voice.

"Sara, you'll never know if you don't try it first. And don't you think that Connor wants to know his dad? It's a pity for Michael for he is a good man, but he isn't the one you love and you know that."

We talked a lot more that afternoon and when Pam was gone I laid curled up in bed thinking for a long while.

As the clock showed nearly one o' clock at night, I had made up my mind and grabbed for the telephone.

Without hesitation I dialed the number once so familiar to me.

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

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What once was broken

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Disclaimer: All right, I don't own anything at all. All characters belong to CBS.

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A/N: Again I want to thank you my wonderful beta reader Marlou for her help! Marlou, you are the best. Should you find any more mistakes they are completely mine.

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Chapter four: Struggles

Grissom's POV

The voice of a ghost

Speaking of former times,

So fortunate, but buried deep long ago.

Can it make my heart beat again?

It'd been five days now since my mind was awakened from its dull slumber and I still feel like a sleepwalker wandering through the dark.

Again it had been a call that turned my life upside down. To lose someone to a kidnapper is a painful and incredible slow process. There's the hope that will always die the last, if it will die at all, but then to find out that this person is alive is like an internal earthquake, where not a single stone remains untouched.

It was Sara who called that night, the woman that had been the only love in my life. The woman that had been my downfall, for after her disappearance I was frozen inside.

When I thought of the night she called, I remembered that it was one of those hectic nights where we had to try to deal with multiple situations at the same time. We had two unsolved homicides, as well as a burglary to work and it was the third night that week that we would have to pull a double.

I was in my office when my cell phone started ringing. For some reason I felt uneasy and I wondered about that feeling, because I couldn't see a reason at all why I should feel anxious about answering a call.

I hesitated for just a moment longer but then realised that this feeling was completely irrational and reached for the phone.

"Grissom."

There was silence at the other end but I was sure that I could hear someone breath faintly. A

wave of nausea seemed to roll around in my stomach.

"Hello?" I tried it another time.

This time I got an answer and my cocoon of indifference shattered into a thousand pieces.

"Gil, it's me. It's Sara."

Her voice trembled lightly but it was undoubtedly her.

How can I describe that moment? Is it possible at all, to explain how I felt when I heard her voice, when I had thought that she had been dead for years?

I remember that my body seemed to be paralyzed by shock and that my heart skipped a few beats.

I remember that all of sudden my head felt light and refused to let me think only the simplest rational thoughts, but that at the same time I felt thousands of questions lurking somewhere in my mind.

"Sara?"

I knew that my voice croaked but I was surprised that I was able to utter a sound at all, afraid she could hang up at any moment and I would never know if everything had been only a dream.

"I lost my memory."

Her voice was hollow, uninvolved, like the voice of someone who didn't want to speak about something. I waited for her to continue but she remained silent.

"Sara, I.... I don't know what to say. What to think."

I didn't want to sound helpless but I felt lost, didn't know how to react. Part of me believed that my alarm would wake me only moments later, filled with fresh hope for another time, only to have to remember once more that I was alone.

"Gil, I'm sorry. I would have contacted you if I would have been able to remember."

Did she cry? I wasn't sure.

"Sara. Is this real? Are you real?"

I didn't mean to say that, to let my voice betray the fear I felt, but as silly as it was, I wanted to hear her answer.

"Yeah, it's real."

Now I could hear that she really was crying.

"It's okay. Please don't cry."

I tried to sound as soothing as I could. I never could stand to see or hear her cry. It had always made me feel utterly helpless.

"Where are you?"

I felt I had to know where she was and I desperately wanted to go to her, to see with my own eyes that she was real.

"I'm in Phoenix. It's a long story Gil. Don't let us talk about it on the phone. Would...would you like us to meet?"

"Of course I would like that. Tell me when and where. Shall I come to you? I can be on my way in no time at all"

Did I sound too urgent? I waited for her answer, not noticing that I was holding my breath.

"I would prefer to come to Vegas. I'll have to arrange some things before I can come. I promise to explain you everything later. Would Saturday be ok?"

What was she hiding from me? I could feel that she hadn't told me everything but what could I do other than to wait?

"That sounds fine Sara."

"Ok. I'll come to your house then. Let's say two o'clock?"

There had been a time when it was our house. I was so glad to hear that she was alive, so thankful that wonders happened from time to time, but to hear her talking about 'my' house hurts. It reminded me that we had lived apart for three years, that we wouldn't be the same as we were when we parted.

"Ok, I'll see you then."

I had thought about asking her for her phone number but had the feeling it would be wrong, that I shouldn't rush things unnecessary.

"Bye, Gil."

"Bye, Sara. Sara... I... I've missed you."

I wished I could have held my voice steady but I failed. I was barely able to whisper.

"I miss you too."

She hung up.

Finally it was Saturday and I was pacing up and down my living room. It was twenty to two and I couldn't wait for the doorbell to ring.

The last days I hadn't been able to sleep more than two hours in a row or to concentrate on my work like I had always been able to and it was no wonder that it didn't take long before I had to face the consequences. I lost my temper with a suspect and started to yell at him so Catherine and Brass had to drag me out of the room. Catherine then suggested that I should take some time off.

I didn't want to stay at home but I knew that she was right and that in my state of mind I would be of no use at work. So I spent most of the last three days at home, torn between my desire to drive to Phoenix and see Sara immediately and my common sense that told me to wait and let things happen in their own time.

Once more I sat down on my couch where I tried to calm myself. I breathed in as deeply as possible but it didn't work.

I wished I could stop the thoughts that were running through my head, but I couldn't. There were so many questions and I longed for the answers yet I dreaded them at the same time.

How would Sara be? What would she look like and how much would her character have changed? I was realistic enough not to think she would be the same woman who disappeared that dreadful day three years before.

How much of a change would she see in me? I knew that I had changed physically. My hair was completely gray now as well as my beard and I had many more wrinkles around my eyes, but the most drastic change was my loss of weight. To eat hadn't been a pleasure anymore and now it was almost safe to call me thin.

Would there be a way for us to be together again? It would be two completely estranged people that would meet today and if there was still that certain something that had drawn us towards each other in former times would have to be seen. Love's a plant that needs to be fed and memories alone, wonderful as they were, wouldn't be enough.

I grabbed for one of the magazines on the table but laid it back only five minutes later, after I read the same sentence for the fifth time. Instead I decided to make some coffee. I thought it would be safe to assume that that at least hadn't changed, for Sara had always been addicted to coffee, like most people who worked in graveyard.

I had poured in the water and grabbed for the coffee filters when the doorbell rang. I stood paralyzed for a moment, then I laid the filters down at the sideboard with suddenly stiff fingers. It had to be Sara. I didn't expect anyone else and she had always been early.

The doorbell rang another time. I took a last deep breath and went to open the door.

I was right, it was Sara.

I don't know how long we stood there, simply facing each other. I wanted to greet her, embrace her, wanted do what our culture dictates as being the right thing to do, but I couldn't move.

It was Sara, but she looked so different. She wore her hair longer now so that it fell wavy around her shoulders. She still was slim and she wore a simple blue dress that showed her delicate figure.

As I took a closer look I saw that the creases on her forehead were deeper than before and although she smiled at me I could sense a sadness emanating from deep within her.

"Hi Gris."

Of course it was Sara that spoke first. It had always been her that took things into her hands, while I was the one who reacted to her. Her voice was low, she sounded unsure.

I always hated to see her vulnerable. Still unable to speak I went to her and embraced her. She still smelled so good and it felt so right to hold her in my arms.

We stood embraced for a long time and after a while I heard her sobs and felt her tears on my neck. I stroked her back and mumbled soothing words.

As I felt her crying stop, I slowly withdrew from her and looked into her eyes.

"I'm so glad that you're here."

She gave me a small smile and her left hand searched for my right. Her hand was cold and I returned the soft pressure. Together we stepped into the house and I closed the door behind us. I was still unsure what to say, so I offered her some coffee and she agreed. I got the impression that she felt as uncertain as me. While she sat down on the couch, I went into the kitchen where I grabbed the dropped coffee filters and prepared the machine.

As I turned to her on my way to the living room I caught her staring at me. As before I had the feeling that she was hiding something from me.

I suddenly became nervous, for what did I really know about this woman sitting before me? What did she do while she was in Phoenix? Was she married? Was that the reason why she came to visit me? To say goodbye? So many questions and I dreaded nearly every answers.

I sat down beside her. She bent her head and looked down. She didn't want to meet my eyes and my feeling of anxiousness got stronger.

"Sara, what is it? I can see in your eyes that there is something. Don't you want to tell me what it is?"

It wasn't like me to confront someone directly but I couldn't stand the fear building up inside me any longer. I knew that my voice had a begging quality, but I didn't care anymore.

She remained silent and I refrained from saying anything more. I offered her to talk and now it was for her to accept or to refuse.

Finally she looked up again and I could see that she was on the verge of crying again. The knot in my throat tightened.

"Oh Gris, there is so much tell and I don't know how. The last three years I lived a life I could never have imagined before. It wasn't a bad one, but so different from the one I had here in Vegas. I... It's only that it is hardly over a week that I got my memories back. I had an accident, with the car, that's why I can remember now and there's... there's so much stuff in my head. The past as Sara, my life as Jane, the kidnapping and... ."

Her voice trailed off and the tears she tried to suppress were running down her cheeks. I wrapped my arms around her and let her cry again. I felt like crying too, but wanted to be strong for her.

As she stirred in my arms I let loose and she looked at me again, calmer now.

"Gil, before I tell you more, I want you to meet someone. Can you come to my hotel this evening at six o' clock?"

Another man, I knew she had found someone else. I didn't even have to ask who the person was, I knew it was a man. Someone like Sara wouldn't be alone for long and without the memories of me, she would have taken her chance. How could I be so dumb and believe there was a second chance? I closed my eyes and wished she would be gone. I didn't want her to see my pain.

"Gris, please."

Her voice sounded pleading.

Although the simple thought of her being together with someone else hurt me more than I could describe, I would do her the favor and meet him. If she wanted my absolution so that she could live her new life I would do that. I loved her after all and only wanted to see her happy.

"I'll be there."

I sounded firm and I was thankful for that, because I didn't want her to see me vulnerable.

Five minutes later she was gone. She had given me the address of the hotel and after a last short hug I was alone again. She hadn't even drank her coffee.

It was five to six and I stood in front of Sara's room. I had arrived ten minutes before but hadn't found the nerve to knock. I wished that it would be over, wished that I wouldn't have to go inside that room at all.

I shook my head. I should be thankful that Sara was alive. Did it matter that it was someone else who gave her the love she needed, as long as she was alive? I should only be thankful and I was. I tried to tell myself that it would only be this last time and then we could go our ways.

I knew that I lied to myself and that I wouldn't get over her but I had no choice. Who said that being in love guaranteed happiness?

I knocked and soon I could hear a voice that was definitely not Sara's. As the door opened a woman in her early forties stood in the doorframe. I must have looked surprised, because she smiled knowingly at me, with impressive dark brown eyes. She was a tall woman, almost as tall as Sara and she was very slim.

I didn't know why, but for a moment I was sure that Warrick would definitely like her. He was still single and this woman emanated an aura of sincerity and serenity that would do him good.

"Gil Grissom I assume? My name is Pamela Harker. I'm a friend of Sara's."

I hardly noticed that we shook hands because I tried to look in the room behind her.

"Nice to meet you Ms. Harker."

"Call me Pamela. I guess we'll meet each other more often in the future."

She stepped back to finally let me into the room.

I must have frowned for she smiled again. If what she said was right it meant that Sara hadn't planned to say goodbye, maybe that she didn't have another man at all. I was confused but felt a light hope building up inside of me.

I passed her by and entered the room. I scanned the room but couldn't see Sara anywhere. It was a big room with two king-size beds and separate living area. The door of what I supposed to be the bathroom opened and Sara came out of the room, closing the door behind her. She had changed into a jeans and blue sweater since the afternoon. Her trouser was stained with what seemed to be water droplets. I couldn't help but stare at them.

"Hi Grissom, I'm happy that you're here." I could hear the edge of uncertainty in her voice and fear began to raise again.

All my life I had enjoyed riding roller coasters but this emotional up and down seemed to overpower me.

"Sara, let's please stop these games. What is it you want to tell me? Is it that you don't you want to see me again, is there another man?"

I was surprised by my sudden outburst and she obviously was, too. She gave me a startled look but took a deep breath and nodded. When she spoke her voice was firm.

"Gil, there is no other man in my life. At least no one I have a relationship with and I don't want to say goodbye to you. When I was abducted I..."

Suddenly I heard the laughter of a child. It seemed to come from the bathroom and only now I registered that Pamela was gone. All kinds of thoughts were running through my head and I looked at Sara.

"Pamela's child?," I croaked.

Sara bit her lip and slowly shook her head. I couldn't believe it. Sara had a child? Who was the father? Hadn't she just said she wasn't in a relationship?

Realization slowly dawned inside on me. I looked at Sara again, asking her the question with my eyes that I couldn't voice with my mouth.

This time she nodded and I felt my legs become weak. I tore my eyes away from her and started to walk to the bathroom. My heart beat fast and I was afraid like seldom before.

I opened the door slowly and looked into the room. There was Pamela sitting on the floor in front of a bathtub and inside sat a boy of around two and a half years. He'd heard the door open and looked at me.

I swear that my heart missed a beat at that moment. The boy had Sara's curls but my blue eyes. As he saw me he looked up at me enquiringly, biting his lips in the same gesture I had seen from Sara only moments ago .

"Daddy?," he asked.

Sara must have told him that I would come. I was still unable to speak and could only nod.

The answer seemed to satisfy the boy for he beamed at me and was reaching out with his arms for me.

In his right hand he held a toy and as I inspected it more closely I saw that it was a plastic spider.

I lifted my son out of the tub cautiously and embraced him. I knew that I cried but I couldn't help it. I knew that I got soaked but I didn't care.

It must have only been seconds but it felt like an eternity had passed when I heard this wonderful, earnest voice again.

"Daddy, is wet."

I laughed despite the tears that were still running down my cheeks. I saw Pamela standing beside us, with a towel in her hands and I handed her the boy cautiously.

"His name is Connor." It was Sara who spoke calmly and I turned around. I could see that she, too, had cried.

"Do you want Connor and me in your life?"

I saw the fear in her eyes and without a second thought I took her in my arms. How could she even ask such a question?

"I don't only _want_ you in my life, Sara. I _need_ you. Sara, I was dead those last years and without you I will never be whole again. I love you so much."

I wanted to say more but I felt her lips on mine and I couldn't help but moan at the sensation. It was like no time had passed and all the memories of tenderness and passion came back to me.

"Eeew, Mommy and Daddy are kissing." Connor sounded truly disgusted.

Both Sara and I had to laugh. We turned around to him, my arm around her waist and when we looked at each other again I saw a warm smile directed at me and I was sure that the same expression of love was mirrored in my eyes.

I knew that we would have a long road before us, that we both would have to come to terms with our pasts and that we wouldn't be the same people again. I knew also that I would have to cope with Sara's awakened memories about the Cop Hunter. She didn't tell me about it yet but I was sure that she would need my help.

That was one side of the coin but I felt that there was still much love between us and that there was a young boy who would need both of his parents . Somehow I was sure that we would cope.

I turned back to Sara and kissed her once more, despite the protests vocalised by our son.

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The End

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